Page 77 of Coming Clean

“It’s just memories andghosts. I’m fine and I’m on my fucking way, okay?” He hung upbefore she could answer.

****

That night, Connorlay awake long after Jeremy had fallen asleep. It was late enoughfor him to call Mario. He should try again. For once, he should puthimself first. But that wasn’t what Marines did. A Marine workedfor his team, for his country, for freedom and justice, not forhimself. Mario needed saving. That was Connor’s mission.

You don’t have missionsanymore. You left.

I left him there. That’sunacceptable.

You tried to take him withyou. He wouldn’t come.

I could havestayed.

And become as lost as heis? You can’t save him if you’re dead inside.

I can’t save him if hecuts me out of his life, either.

You’re not hiskeeper.

I’m his friend.

Call him and tellhim.

He checked the clock.Sabrina was a night owl, so she’d still be up. But there was nopoint in calling her. Connor knew what she’d say. She’d tell him tomake his confession and to hell with her brother. Not because shewas heartless but because she didn’t get it. Sabrina cared abouther brother, she just didn’t get why Connor felt so responsible forhim. She didn’t think like a Marine. Connor and his team wouldnever leave a man behind, never give up on anyone. Sabrina hadn’tbeen in that cave, chained up for days, given barely enoughdribbles of water to stay alive, aching from bruises, scared,hallucinating. Mario had saved him from that hell. How could Connordestroy Mario’s image of who Connor was? How could he destroy theirfriendship? He finally fell asleep, no closer to asolution.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Connor stepped out of thecar and tugged at his tie. He hadn’t had to wear one since the lasttime he’d worn his dress uniform. The sport coat and tie he’dbought were technically more comfortable than his uniform, softerand more relaxed, but he felt out of place in a way he never did asa well-turned-out Marine.

Butterflies did aerialtricks in his stomach as he thought about mingling with theeducated elite. They’d be discussing poems and books that just lefthim scratching his head. What would he say if someone asked himwhat he’d read lately? The latest issue of Guns & Ammo?The SmallBusiness Owner’s Guide to Marketing Success?—at least that sounded a little better. Other questions theymight ask were even worse: Where did you go to school? What’s yourdegree in? Where do you work?

He considered sliding backbehind the wheel and telling Jeremy he’d pick him up when he wasdone. But Jeremy circled the car and held out his hand. Connor tookit, and his warm, soft grasp eased Connor’s tension. Jeremy wantedhim there. Connor wasn’t going to disappoint him, even if he feltas out-of-place as he had on the first day of boot camp.

****

Jeremy glanced at Connor asthey stepped through the door. The awards gathering wasn’t overlylarge. There were less than a hundred people in attendance: facultyand their partners, dates, and occasionally extended familymembers, along with the representatives from the governing boardand the awards foundation.

Most faculty gatheringswere deadly dull but at least this one had food, and—Jeremy glancedtoward the refreshment area of the banquet hall—yes, thank youGod—wine. Maybe there’d be beer for Connor too.

Connor kept gentlysqueezing and releasing Jeremy’s hand. Jeremy figured it was anervous gesture. Connor’s tension hung in the air like a densecloud. He held himself with military bearing and scanned the roomas if looking for danger and preparing for how to handle any likelyscenarios. The guests were most likely not armed, and none of themwere a match for Connor’s fighting skills, but there were plenty ofdangerous characters there: slick-tongued devils vying for eachother’s positions and trying to make their colleagues look likeidiots. If they scented Connor’s unease they’d swarm around himlike a school of sharks. He prayed Connor would make it through theevening without anyone being particularly asinine.

“You want a drink?” Jeremyasked him.

Connor gave a sharp nod. “Ineed something to do with my hands.”

“Come on, then.”

The bar wasn’t stocked withbeer so Connor took a glass of red wine. He might not want to drinkit, but at least it would give him something to fiddlewith.

He spotted a few friends hewanted to introduce Connor to but before they could make their wayacross the room, Dr. Buxton, his department chair flagged himdown.

“I need you,” Buxton said.Not “how are you?”, no introduction of himself to Connor, just asummons. Some people, including David, thought Jeremy sucked atparty etiquette, but at least he wasn’t quite that bad.

Jeremy glanced at Connor.“Sorry. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Connor looked pained, butsimply said, “I understand.”

Jeremy followed ProfessorSocial Skills. “Did you need to speak with me?”